That's What We Do
by RememberMeWhen
Summary: Clara wasn't one of those people who expected to be given the world – she wanted to work for it. But here was the Doctor; tall and handsome with his cheery big chin whisking her away to deliver her dreams. It was entirely coincidental, she imagined, that her dreams lay in the stars and lust for adventure – which was exactly what he could give her. Whouffle! Missing adventure series


_"Saved the world, then."_

_"Yeah."_

_"That's what we do."_

_"Yeah!"_

_(Cold War, Episode Eight.)_

* * *

Chapter One: More Often

"I think," said Clara, bouncing down the stairs to meet the Doctor, "you're starting to visit me more than every Wednesday."

The Doctor – wearing his best suit and coolest bowtie – frowned as he walked into the hallway. His eyes shifted around the room, trying to avoid anything but looking Clara in the eyes.

"Well, what day is it?" he asked abruptly.

Clara leaned against the banister, folded her arms and studied him. "Today's Thursday. Don't you have a calendar Mister _Lord of Time_?"

"Oh, I don't know, time is in flux, how can I keep track of everything?" He clasped his hands together as if he was stressed, still acting like he was in a mood. His tone, however, lifted ever so slightly as he asked, "Are you complaining?"

Clara smirked and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

The Doctor shuffled. A pink tint to his cheeks told Clara he was embarrassed. "Do you mind if I visit you… more often?"

"Well," Clara said, taking a step forward while keeping her arms crossed. "You saw me twice last week. Now twice this week."

The Doctor finally met her gaze. He stopped shuffling and concentrated on what she was saying. "Yes. Meaning?"

"Meaning, have you heard me utter a single complaint?"

He thought about this briefly, running through every conversation they had recently had. "No," he confirmed.

She closed the gap between them and slapped him playfully on his chest; grabbing the collar of his blazer and pulling him down to her level. "Then there's your answer!"

With their faces only inches apart, the Doctor found it impossible to look anywhere else. The sense of relief was immediately lifted from his shoulders, and he shot her a bright and brilliant smile.

"Good! I mean, I didn't want to intrude, I know you have a life here and you look after the kids, but I was just spending some time on my own and I thought, well I felt like I – I mean I…"

His sentence was left hanging in the air as he realised he had said too much. Clara was staring at him, both amused and curious at his rambling. With the familiar mischievous glitter in her eye, she asked, "Felt what?"

Clara grinned as she watched his mouth open and close, unsure of whether to tell her the truth or not.

"I felt like I – you know."

"I'm not sure I do."

"I missed you!"

Now the pink tint on his cheeks flushed red. He pulled away from Clara and took a few cautious steps back, leaving her standing, frozen in position with a triumphant smile spread across her face.

"There I said it!" he shouted, waving his hands in the air. "Happy now? Don't expect to hear that again, Clara, you're lucky I said it once. But there, I said it. I missed you."

Unable to hide the smirk – and not really wanting to hide it, either way – Clara placed a hand on her hip and flicked her hair out of her face. She watched him flutter about the hallway as he tried to relieve himself of embarrassment, not really sure (after all this time) what to make of him. He was unlike anyone she had ever known. He tried to hide his real emotion at any turn as if he was afraid the smallest relationship could hurt him. When he was sincere he was broody, when he was worried he found humour and when he was nervous he lashed out. But one thing always stayed the same when travelling with the eccentric man in his snog box – when the Doctor was excited; it was hard to stay away.

_ The best things in your life are the things which make you feel best_, her mum used to say. No one made her feel better than the Doctor. She was going to hold onto him with everything she had – and no, she wouldn't tell him that.

"You're quiet," the Doctor interrupted her thoughts. Clara shook her head and renewed her smile.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

"You. Saying you missed me. _And_ where we can go next. Speaking of which, where is your snog box?"

The Doctor, used to her expression for the TARDIS by now, ignored the comment which at first annoyed him and pointed to just outside the front door. All of his broody embarrassment was gone; evaporated in a matter of seconds and was replaced by brilliant enthusiasm.

"Where I usually park her," he spun on the spot, ready to head for the door before turning around again as if he'd forgotten something, "where are the kids?"

"With their dad," Clara brushed off. "We'll be fine as long as we're back for tea."

The Doctor held out his arm for her to take. Clara bounced up to him, never taking her eyes from his wonderful face, especially as he beamed back at her.

"Just as I promised you when we first met. Now then, Miss Clara. Where would you like to go?"

That question was never easy to answer, no matter how many times he asked. Clara wasn't one of those people who expected to be given the world – she wanted to work for it. But here was the Doctor; tall, dark and handsome with his cheery big chin whisking her away to deliver her dreams. It was entirely coincidental, she imagined, that her dreams lay in the stars and the lust for adventure – which was what he could exactly give her.

And he wouldn't stop giving.

"Oh, I don't know. Surprise me," she answered as she locked the front door behind them.

The Doctor seemed a little taken aback. "Do you like surprises?"

"Good ones, yeah!" Clara confirmed. "Who doesn't like surprises?"

His eyes glazed over like they usually did when the Doctor was remembering something. Grimacing, he said, "I've had a few bad experiences surprising people in my time. Oliver Cromwell didn't like it. Isaac Newton was another one. Gorbachev – now there was a disaster. I have to say, I didn't mean to materialise the TARDIS during his evening tea with the Politburo. I just thought it would be a good fun to drop in on him out of blue dressed as Lenin. He has an excellent humour, Gorbachev. In private. Definitely not in front of his Politburo."

Clara waited until he was done before showing him exactly how little she understood anything he just said. She allowed him to enter the TARDIS first, while she gave one last look around the familiar street she had lived on for the past year.

"I hated History at school. Always _so_ predictable," Clara told him. She walked up the TARDIS ramp and leaned against control panel closer to the wall, so she was directly facing him standing in the centre. Her eyes lit up as she noticed a scowl return to his face.

"Hate History! How could you possibly hate History? What else could they teach you at school, eh?" the Doctor threw his hands in the air to exaggerate his point. "How to talk _French_? How _read_ books? How to _cook_ food?"

Clara laughed at the Doctor's emphasis. She shrugged and shook her head. "Well, my mum taught me how to make the perfect soufflé. It's not her fault I haven't been able to recreate it yet. I will one day, though. As for the others; I've always been terrible at languages and I was reading before I went to school."

Something odd passed over the Doctor's face at her words. He turned his back on her and started to flick controls and push buttons, hiding his face from her view. Clara took a tentative step forward, curious as to what had caused such a shifty expression.

"Did I say something?" she asked carefully.

The Doctor spun around again – his face back to normal. But Clara could see in his ancient eyes that something still wasn't quite right.

"What? No! Of course not. I was just thinking that we should get going. Places to see and all that! People to save. I'm sure someone needs rescuing out there."

"Why do you do that?"

The Doctor could feel Clara's gaze pierce through him as she took another step forward. He paused, refusing to take a step back and avoid her question. He knew what she was referring to, of course he knew. He couldn't help himself but react when she reminded him of how they had met.

"Do what?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"You know what," she retorted, lightly, more curious than offended or annoyed. "Sometimes you give me this _look_. I don't know how to describe it – it's just a look. Like you can't quite believe I'm standing here, or you don't know how to react to certain things I say."

_Or maybe both_, the Doctor added in his head. "I don't know, I do things sometimes and they don't quite make sense – I thought you'd be used to it by now."

A shabby answer, but Clara didn't expect anything better. In truth, the look he gave scared her and she knew, in a way, she would be better left in ignorance. But through the foreboding fear the curiosity was a little more than overwhelming. Once again, however, she would let her insecurities go unnoticed until another time.

"Now," said the Doctor, picking up on her silent retreat he clasped his hands together in excitement. "Are you ready?"

"I'm always ready," Clara shot back, her eyes playfully narrowing. "What have you got for me this time?"

"What have I got, Clara Oswald?"

He slid across the shiny surface of the TARDIS floor, clumsily pushing buttons and spinning wheels before stopping on the biggest lever of them all.

With a small grin pulling at his lips, he revealed, "Why don't you just sit back and see?"

And with Clara bursting into a sweet mile, the Doctor pulled the magical lever and sent them into the unknown.


End file.
